


Nightmare

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [43]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4564071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a nightmare</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt posted upon tumblr’s otpprompts: [Imagine Person B awakens from a triggering nightmare. They call Person A up and tells them what’s happened, and Person A tells them to hold on and hangs up. Person B feels offended and upset…until they hear someone knocking on their door a little while later. They open it and it’s Person A, out of breath and fussing over them. They ran all the way to Person B’s house to comfort them.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/125710959991/imagine-person-b-awakens-from-a-triggering)
> 
> The idea for the nightmare that afflicts poor Richard at the beginning of this story actually was inspired by a recurring nightmare that plagued me when I was a lot younger; whilst many, many years have passed since then without it, thankfully, recurring, the memories of it still remain. (I never can decide whether it’s a blessing or a curse to almost always remember dreams in reasonably good detail; I suppose really it depends what the dream is actually about ... heh.)

Richard thrashed awake, eyes staring blindly up at the moon-washed ceiling above him; every limb had become tangled in the sheets whilst he‘d slept, soaked in a thin sheen of too-cold sweat against too-hot by contrast skin. His chest heaved, heart hammering against his ribs so hard he was frightened that it might burst clean out of its bony cage, yet it did not; instead, it slowed by increments, breaths becoming less huffing and gasping, yet his mind was still centred upon the nightmare that had held his dreaming self in its sway, until he’d been forcibly ejected from it by his own fear. 

He still could see the warehouse, dank, dark and dripping around him, and could smell the mustiness of the air, coupled with an odd metallic tinge that might well have been blood. Whether that blood was old or freshly shed, Richard wasn’t certain, yet he knew that he did not wish to know either way. He shuddered, and tried to disentangle himself from the sheets, hands grappling the recalcitrant cotton until he clutched the scant coverings against his chest like a shield, as though they really could protect him from the memories of his nightmare that still washed and rolled over him unbidden, unwanted, unneeded. 

His mind remembered again how his dream self had tried to move, only to discover that he was tied down to a wooden chair which creaked ominously beneath his shifting body weight. Richard still held the faint hope that that chair might have broken if he’d exerted enough energy and force upon it, yet somehow, he’d known that that would never have happened; how he‘d known that was a mystery to him, both whilst asleep and awake. He remembered again the footsteps that had echoed and swayed their way through the air from a point unseen behind him, and the cold, almost wet, feel of cold steel pressing against the side of his head. He felt again the almost debilitating rush of fear as the gun at his temple was cocked, before a loud report echoed and smashed its way through the air; he felt the bullet enter ... and that was when he’d awoken. 

“Jesus fuck,” he said, chest heaving as renewed fear ripped its way through his body.

Richard screwed his eyes tightly closed, but that small measure did nothing to shield him from his own memories. He swore again and struggled his way from beneath the covers, hoping that a trip to the bathroom to relieve his now screaming bladder would help to relieve his over-burdened mind as well as his water-works. It didn’t; Richard went from the bathroom to the kitchen, to lean into the cool confines of the fridge, to pull a bottle of beer from its depths. He sat alone at the table, and slowly consumed his beer; the harsh illumination provided by the kitchen strip-lights suspended above his head did little to ease his fears. Instead, the light was too bright, too harshly realistic, washing everything of its colours at so late an hour. Richard found himself blindly staring about the room, hoping that something, anything would catch his eyes and distract him, even if it was something mundane like a cookery book or last week’s newspaper. 

Instead, his gaze fell upon a photograph of Paul that he kept pinned to the fridge door by a magnet; whilst the magnet was a daft, yet sweet, cartoonish elephant hugging its baby, the photograph was anything but silly. It, in actual fact, was one of his favourites of Paul, where the other man, for once, was not mugging for the camera; instead, his grin was wide, unguarded, genuine and utterly, heart-breakingly, beautiful. Happiness radiated from the other man’s face, forever bathed in eternal sunlight. That sight alone made a flicker of a smile cross Richard's face, before sudden fear wiped it clean again. Richard had the sudden fear that his nightmare would manifest and somehow become real; he would never see Paul again, never touch him, never know again what it felt like to kiss him, to cuddle him, to make love to him. 

Without thinking he was on his feet, almost knocking his beer over and sending the amber liquid spilling to the floor, yet somehow, amazingly, the bottle teetered before it righted itself again. Richard took little notice of it however; instead, he reached for the phone and blindly punched in Paul’s number, fingers moving in a dance of memorized motions; he lifted the receiver to his ear and waited for the other man to pick up. 

“Hello?” Paul’s voice came after Richard's third attempt at ringing him.

Paul’s voice was weary and slightly slurred, as though the other man had been recently rudely woken from sleep. Richard cursed at that, loudly, remembering only then what the time was; he checked the clock again and saw that it was well past midnight.

“Richard?” Paul asked, voice sounding more alert after recognizing Richard's voice. “Are you okay, mein Schatz?” 

“Jesus, Paul, I’m fucking frightened,” Richard said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained, dissonant, not his normal confident tones. 

In his words, he heard the young boy he’d once been, pleading for forgiveness and love and recognition, which had mostly been ignored and unheard. Paul, in later years, had heard it and given everything that Richard had needed willingly without ever needing to be asked. 

“What? Darling, what is it?” Paul asked, and his deep voice was alarmed, spiky, obviously reacting to the inherent fear that still thrummed through Richard's veins.

Richard managed to squeeze out the story of his nightmare past a rapidly constricting throat, fearful that he might cry, might never finish the story, might give in to the fear that still gripped him that he might never have the chance to see Paul again.

“Hold on, baby,” Paul said, before the phone suddenly went dead in Richard's hands.

“Paul, for fuck’s sake, please,” Richard yelled, but it was to no avail.

Paul was destined never to hear him. The only response Richard received was the sound of the dialing tone and empty air drilling into his ear and almost threatening to tip him over the edge again. He slammed the phone back onto its cradle and stood beside the phone, staring blindly at the wall and at nothing in particular, chest heaving and gasping for air that seemed barely able to sustain him suddenly. Minutes ticked by, until he finally turned away with a sharp and agonised curse; he closed the distance between himself and the long abandoned and forgotten beer. He picked up the bottle, now slightly warm and tilted it to his mouth, emptying it in long slow gulps that did something to calm his frazzled nerves. It was as he was throwing the bottle away and washing his hands clean, that he heard a hammering against his door, as though someone was trying desperately to gain entrance.

Richard, baffled, made his way to the door, whilst wondering if it was perhaps the neighbour’s kids winding him up again, as they had been wont to do in the past. Before he’d even reached the wooden barrier, he heard Paul’s distressed voice calling to him from the other side of the door, and it was obvious by the tone of his voice that the other man was breathless, as though he’d run a great distance just to be with Richard. 

Paul did not live far from Richard himself, yet even the few blocks that separated them was considerable when running through Berlin after being freshly woken from sleep. Richard felt a surge of warmth racing through his body over the fact that Paul had abandoned all thoughts of sleep to be by Richard's side, and had been so scared that he’d abandoned all rational thought of actually calling himself a taxi. Richard unlocked the door as Paul called to him again, fear spiking through his voice; Paul barelled through the door before it was even fully open, arms folding warmly around Richard’s body, mouth leaving sloppy wet kisses against Richard's cheek. 

Richard couldn’t help the short bark of laughter that dropped from between his lips, as he held Paul’s warm body against his, surprised by the ferocity of the attention he was receiving. He stroked one hand down Paul’s back, caressing him, as the other man transferred his mouth from Richard’s cheek to his mouth. Richard’s breath was almost stolen from him by the ferocity of that singular kiss, deep and penetrating and warm. He closed his eyes and gave the other man everything, before he rested his forehead against Paul’s own when the kiss ended. Richard rubbed one hand against his partner’s back and down to Paul‘s arse, and that was when he realized that Paul was still wearing his pyjamas. 

“Paul,” Richard murmured against Paul’s mouth, feeling short sharp breaths huffing against his lips from Paul’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Paul said, tone breathless and vaguely indistinct. 

“Why are you still wearing your pyjamas?” he asked.

Paul’s laugh, when it came, was sudden and deep; Richard grinned, despite himself, as he waited for the other man’s response.

“You were close to having a panic attack, love,” Paul explained. “I had to get here quickly. Sadly, that didn’t involve actually getting changed. I did put on a jacket though, at least: look.” 

He eased away enough so that he could model the light jacket he’d hastily pulled on over his pyjamas, which went some way to explaining why Richard had not at first noticed his distinct lack of clothing. 

“How are you, anyway?” Paul asked, eyes roving over Richard's face worriedly.

Whilst a smile still touched his lips, Paul’s eyes had darkened with his concern and a slight frown lowered his brows over his eyes. 

“And don’t say you’re fine, Reesh. You didn’t sound it,” he said, before Richard could say just that.

Richard sighed, and the brief exhalation ruffled the mussed hair that framed Paul’s face. 

“It’s like I told you. I had a bad nightmare. I got scared,” he said. “You know how I get when I have nightmares.”

Paul nodded, but he didn’t say anything; Richard was glad for that, although he couldn’t quite explain why, not even to himself. Paul had often spent many a night with him, soothing him, comforting him, after Richard had suffered horrific dreams of being tied down, tortured, threatened with guns or worse; each dream ended the same way with Richard dying. It didn’t seem to have a pattern; Richard could go months, even years without suffering nightmares or dark thoughts, yet suddenly, they came out of nowhere, unbidden, unwanted, all consuming and it took everything that Paul had to calm him and ensure that Richard knew that he was safe, that he was alive, that he was loved. 

“I’m here, darling, for as long as you need me,” Paul assured him, as he took Richard's hand in his own warm one. “Hot chocolate?”

Richard nodded wordlessly and obediently followed the other man into the kitchen again; he sat at the table whilst Paul fussed around the kitchen making hot chocolate and setting out an array of dark chocolate covered biscuits upon a plate, which he set before Richard at the table.

“Eat. You need it,” Paul said, insistently, when Richard was about to refuse the sweet offering. 

Richard didn’t know what to say, so he instead started to eat; Paul watched him, with an oddly fatherly expression upon his face, despite the fact that a matter of only a few years separated their ages. 

“Good,” Paul said, once he was satisfied that Richard seemed to be taking his advice. “You’ll be feeling better in a minute.”

“I don’t know why biscuits should make me feel better, Paulchen,” Richard said, with a musing smile. “You always make me eat them after a panic attack, and I never know why.”

“It’s not the biscuits, it’s the chocolate that‘s beneficial,” Paul said. “Specifically dark chocolate, albeit in small doses. Lowers the cortisol and epinephrine in your body and stimulates the production of opioids.” 

“How do you even know this shit, Paul?” Richard asked, with a laugh, even as Paul pushed a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

“I just do,” Paul said, with a smile as he settled across from him with a sigh.

Richard merely shook his head, took another bite of his chocolate biscuit and chewed thoughtfully. While he still was uncertain as to the validity of Paul’s logic, he had to admit that he was feeling a little calmer already; the chocolate coupled with Paul’s soothing jokes and funny stories made him feel centred, and less alone. 

It was as he was finishing his hot chocolate that he looked over at Paul, at the other man’s slightly dozy eyes, underscored by deep, dark smudges, that Richard realized how tired the other man looked. Richard sighed, and shook his head, but didn’t immediately speak.

“What is it?” Paul asked, with a frown.

“We should go to bed. Are you staying?” Richard asked.

“Do you want me to?” Paul asked, carefully.

“Very much so,” Richard said, with a sudden resurgence of the fear that he’d felt earlier in the night. “I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” 

“I’ll stay,” Paul reassured him and his tone was soft. 

“Thank you,” Richard said, and felt such a suddenly overwhelmingly lost feeling then that he could do little more than just stare at his empty mug for a moment.

“Reesh?” Paul asked, sharply. “Are you okay?” 

“I just want to be held,” Richard said, his voice small and almost swallowed by the buzzing silence of the kitchen. 

Paul sighed and Richard could feel the gust of it against his forehead, before Paul’s hand snaked into view to clasp around his own.

“Let’s leave this shit until the morning and go to bed, okay? Come on,” Paul said, as his fingers squeezed gently around Richard's.

Richard nodded and left his mug upon the tabletop alongside Paul’s; he followed his partner from the room, pausing only once to turn off the light with a loud and satisfying snap. Paul led him into the bedroom, and they curled together beneath the covers upon the bed, Paul’s arms a heavy comforting weight around Richard’s body. Richard cuddled into his lover’s body heat and lay still, staring blindly at nothing whilst Paul’s hands described comforting circles upon his back and sides, travelling no further than his waist; it was as though Paul knew, and understood, that Richard was not up to much more than being simply held that night and Richard was grateful for Paul‘s ever-present perceptiveness. Richard sighed and turned to press warm kisses against Paul's mouth, feeling the soft yielding warmth of the other man’s lips against his own, before he spoke.

“Got to sleep, liebchen,” he murmured.

“You too,” Paul murmured back, before he fell silent.

Richard closed his eyes but it took a while for him to go to sleep, even with Paul pressed up ageist him. When he did go to sleep, he didn’t remember dreaming.

***

The morning dawned in a wash of pink light, warm and filled with the promises of summer. Richard stirred into wakefulness, and felt a sense of peace curling its way through his body when the first thing that he saw upon first opening his eyes was Paul still sleeping beside him. Paul was closed-eyed, lips slightly parted, body relaxed and comfortable against him; Paul’s arms were still even nestled around Richard's waist, as though the other man hadn’t moved an inch in the night, body forming a warm cage to keep nightmares away. 

He lifted one hand and touched Paul’s mouth with his fingertips, dragging his thumb over the other man’s lower lip gently, causing the flesh to drag in its wake. Paul stirred slightly at the contact, a soft smile suddenly touching at the corners as Richard repeated the gesture, touch tickling and gentle. Paul's eyes cracked open and he stared blearily at Richard at close range, misty-blue eyes mistier still in his sleepiness. Still, his lips curved into that gentle, sleepy smile that Richard was so used to seeing first thing in the morning whenever Paul stayed over, before Paul spoke, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hallo,” he said. “How are you this morning?”

“Much better. Thank you, Paulchen,” Richard said, and he wasn’t just thanking the other man for merely asking about his general well-being.

He was thanking him for staying, for just being there, for caring enough to look after him when all others would probably have laughed and told him to grow up. Paul was always the one to take him seriously. 

“Paul, I love you,” Richard suddenly said, on impulse.

“Hmmm?” Paul asked, eyes cracking open in sudden surprise. “You’ve never said before.” 

“That doesn’t make it any less true, Paul,” Richard said, a little hurt that Paul hadn’t reciprocated his feelings immediately. 

Paul yawned and stretched, toes flexing and curling against Richard's calves, before he smiled and dotted a kiss against the end of Richard's nose.

“And you know I love you, don’t you?” Paul asked, finally, eyes resting upon Richard's face, as a soft smile curved his lips.

Despite the smile, there was an utter seriousness trapped behind Paul’s eyes, a sudden worry that perhaps Richard wouldn’t take him seriously. Richard believed him; Paul might seem the eternal little ray of proverbial sunshine, filled with a stream of seemingly endless jokes and anecdotes, yet Paul knew when to be serious; that morning was one of those times, when all jokes fled, leaving nothing behind but the truth. Richard smiled in relief before he leant in to press a kiss against Paul’s mouth, lips dragging and catching at one another as his hands slowly re-explored Paul’s body; he could feel the low throb of arousal pooling in his lower abdomen, spreading down in warm waves, until his cock began to stir into life.

Paul wriggled a little closer, a sudden pleased noise rumbling in his chest when his leg rubbed against Richard's erection; that one motion sent a jolt of arousal rocketing through Richard and his cock grew harder still. He felt Paul’s hand upon his own, guiding it between the other man’s legs and he felt how hard Paul was, how ready he was beneath his palm. Paul guided Richard's hand over his cock, until Richard was stroking him on his own, deft fingers pulling deep groans of arousal from Paul’s throat. Paul shifted away from Richard then, to lay upon his back and awkwardly wriggle out of his pyjama bottoms and underwear, so that his cock curled free and lay flat against his abdomen. Richard reached down and wrapped his fingers around Paul’s length again and began to stroke him, slowly, teasingly, smiling at the way that Paul’s groans turned loud and deep and uninhibited. 

Richard eased away and Paul took over, hand slowly stroking at himself as he watched Richard shrug out of his pyjama bottoms. Richard wriggled away, to leave the bed; he headed for the bathroom and returned with the lube from the bathroom cabinet. When he settled upon the bed again, he handed it to Paul, who pushed it back one-handed, in a silent plea for Richard to make love to him. Richard felt a surge of lust at that, a sudden need to feel in control of at least something after the terrors of the night before; he thought that perhaps Paul understood, had purposefully allowed him to take control, and wanted it.

Richard moved and knelt between Paul’s legs and began preparing the other man, fingers moving against and inside Paul’s body, wringing eager groans and deeper moans from the other man’s throat. Paul’s chest was heaving by the time that Richard was finished, eyes blown wide with lust, lips parted and wet from where his tongue had dipped out to lick repeatedly at them. Richard rolled on a condom and laid atop the other man, one hand catching hold of Paul’s wrists and pinning them above the other man’s head upon the pillow. Paul made an encouraging noise at that, body reacting and arching up into Richard's own, hips brushing against his in a heated line. Richard pressed Paul down against the mattress, stared down into the other man’s face until he saw Paul’s nod of readiness, before he guided himself inside his lover slowly, eyes closing with blissful relief when he’d finally inched himself fully inside. He rested for a while, hand still gripping tightly to Paul’s wrists, before a sudden sharp growl from Paul made Richard start to thrust inside Paul, each movement slow and choppy at first, before he found a natural rhythm, deep and rolling and hard. 

Richard let go of Paul's wrists sometime during their lovemaking, eager to touch the other man, and be touched in turn. Paul didn’t disappoint, palms soon pressed flat against his arse and bearing down to push Richard in deeper; Richard did so, each movement dragging deep inside the other man’s body until he heard that distinctive catching groan that Paul always made before he came, swiftly followed by an eager whine and a loud shout of Richard's name as he released over them both. Paul still was climaxing when Richard came hard, babbling incoherent noises mingled with Paul’s name, relief washing through him as sharply as the pleasure did. He continued thrusting into Paul until he was finally fully sated, before he rolled away, to peel off the condom and dispose of it; his hands returned to Paul’s body, checking the other man over to make sure that Paul was alright.

Paul merely laughed at him, but allowed the contact , reciprocating it with open-handed caresses of his own. Richard merely smiled at him before he nestled against Paul’s side, head resting comfortably against his lover’s shoulder. He stared at the far wall without really seeing it, feeling Paul’s chest rising and falling rhythmically against his cheek and the weight of his heart thudding forcibly against his ribs. Paul’s murmured hum was as satisfied as Richard felt; they lay in silence after that, and made love once more before they rose to shower for the day.


End file.
